


Under the Sun

by MelyndaR



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyndaR/pseuds/MelyndaR
Summary: The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. (Ecclesiastes 1:9)"Anna was being precise, measured, and slow with her every movement, but Mary jerked away regardless. Anna met her eyes again, expression caring and even in a way that somehow reminded Mary of the fact that her lady's maid was a mother now. 'You agreed I could get you settled, remember?'"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive any inconsistencies towards canon, as I've only seen series one and four with only YouTube clips for reference of everything else.  
> This is supposed to take place post-series in a sort of AU because: In this fic, we are ignoring Matthew's death, and the existence of Rose. And also because I can cover my bases with any other potential canon inconsistencies that way.

Mary shivered violently in the chill of dusk, though she barely felt the cold in the face of her shock and pain. Barrow would be ringing the dressing gong soon, and though it didn’t sound as if she’d been missed yet, she would be then. If nothing else, Anna would be looking for her, so she had to _think_.

Muddling her way through the fog of exhaustion in her brain, Mary fought to think any further beyond _Anna._

_Funny how she could manage any sort of fight now…_

She burst out sobbing again at the very thought and had to calm herself again for fear that someone might still hear her, hidden as she was in the woods at the edge of the stables. Her riding jacket, which had been cast aside before, was the most salvageable piece of clothing she wore, it was only dirty and missing a few buttons. Her clothing, covered underneath, was destroyed practically beyond repair. She was sobbing so that when her horse wandered over – returned from wherever he’d run off to in her hour of need – he began to nuzzle and nip worriedly at her hair.

_Her hat. Her riding hat was nowhere to be found._

She didn’t even bother to bat her horse’s head away; that slight dishevelment was the least of her worries as she turned her scattered thoughts back to the matter at hand.

 _Anna._ She _could_ trust Anna with this, could trust her to help and keep this secret… but what sort of help did she need? She didn’t want _anyone_ to see her like this – not even Anna. So, truly… she only needed someone to cover for her so that she could get up to her room undetected.

The horse was still nudging her, and it was because of that she realized – her sketchpad was in her saddlebag with her charcoal. She _could_ write a note to Anna… Moving clumsily, as if she was relearning how to move properly, she stumbled onto her feet and retrieved her drawing things. Allowing herself to slide back onto the ground, she wrote in crude charcoal:

_Anna,_

_I’m sorry I can’t explain why, but it is imperative that you tell everyone necessary that I’ve gone sick to bed and am not to be disturbed. I need you to guard my bedroom door until your work day is over and insure that no one goes in. I beg of you to tell no one._

_Lady Mary_

She ripped out the paper, put the pad and charcoal away, and sat back on the ground, beyond caring about her appearance. Now came the difficult part.

She had to wait and pray that the stable yard cleared – if only for a minute – by some small miracle.

Yet, a few minutes later, the miracle occurred as needed. In the rare stillness, Mary made herself move quickly, ignoring the burning pain she felt. She led her horse just to the edge of the barn where he would soon be seen and stabled, one less way for others to notice her absence, then darted to the back door, the servant’s entrance. She shoved the note, folded with _Anna_ written on the outside for all to see, awkwardly into a crack between slots of wood, then rang the bell and practically _flew_ back into the woods, she was so afraid of being seen.

Heart pounding wildly, Mary allowed herself to run further into the woods than she had been, until she was certain no one could hear her. Falling back onto the ground to wait even longer, Mary let herself weep.

She waited until long after darkness fell to go home, until a while after she’d seen the last light go out, sneaking as close as she’d dared so that she could see that the house was asleep. She made it all the way to the hallway she needed before she froze, discovered.

Because here was the downfall to enlisting Anna’s help.

Anna was waiting in the darkness by the bedroom door, jacket and hat on as if she was prepared to leave for the night. But she _hadn’t_ left.

_Damn._

Anna saw Mary only a split second after Mary had seen Anna.

“I didn’t ask you to _stay_ ,” Mary whispered as stiffly as she could manage.

Anna, eyes wide and cheeks paling, seemed not to hear her as she murmured, “Oh… _milady_!”

“Anna,” Mary snapped miserably, slipping roughly past her and into the bedroom she’d used as an unmarried woman. “Go home.”

“You need help!” Anna followed her into the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind them.

“I only need a change of clothes, and I can manage my own nightgown, thank you.”

“And you’ll need a bath drawn.”

“Which I can also manage alone.”

“Even washing your hair?” For the first time, Mary faltered, and Anna took full advantage, taking off her hat and jacket and going into Mary’s bathroom to run a bath. “Follow me, please.”

Mary moved numbly, going by memory through the darkness into the bathroom. Anna was lighting a candle, setting it on a stand, turning on the water and plugging the tub, all while Mary stood silent and dumb in the middle of the room. There was something very wrong about it all even as the familiarity of watching Anna go through the motions was comforting.

“Now then,” Mary heard Anna draw in a nearly silent breath as she stood to face her and said, her expression impossibly gentle even while her tone stayed perfectly neutral, “Let’s get you undressed.”

Mary jerked awake, in a sense, at the notion, saying quickly, “No, I can do that myself. You’re free to go now. I’m sure Bates must be wondering where you are by now.”

Anna nodded, her expression drawing as she replied, “He’s stayed here to wait for me, in the servant’s dining room. I’ll go down and tell him I’ve decided to stay to care for you overnight in your illness.”

“You _don’t_ have to do that.”

“I know.” Anna met her gaze in the firelight of the single candle, and despite being a good deal taller than her lady’s maid, Mary felt suddenly, uncharacteristically smaller than the other in the face of her steadiness right then. “But I want to, milady. Mr. Bates won’t question it. Please, may I stay?”

“ _No_ , Anna. Things need to remain as normal as possible so—so nothing arouses suspicion.”

Anna was clearly unhappy with the decision, but said instead, “At least let me get you settled in your bath. I will go talk to Mr. Bates while you wash, and tell him I’ll come home only _later_ , then I’ll return to help you with your hair. Will that suffice?”

She was asking for a compromise, and at _any_ other time Mary probably would’ve fought her – or anyone – but she wasn’t sure she had the strength for it tonight. She nodded before she’d really thought it through, her exhaustion beginning to get the better of her now. Anna bent down to turn off the water spout, then stood again, reaching for the topmost remaining button on Mary’s riding jacket.

Anna was being precise, measured, and slow with her every movement, but Mary jerked away regardless. Anna met her eyes again, expression caring and even in a way that somehow reminded Mary of the fact that her servant was a mother now. “You agreed I could get you settled, remember?”

 _Damn again_.

Mary drew in a steadying breath, doing her best to keep from crying as she began to unbutton the jacket for herself. Anna let her, standing still and silent, and Mary _knew_ that her every bruise and scratch, misplaced hair and thread was being noted. She reminded herself that it was Anna, who only ever wanted to help, and that she knew any secret she’d ever had was safe with her lady’s maid.

This one would be too.

So, her jacket was removed, and she sat on the edge of the tub to allow Anna to remove her boots while she took out the last few bobby pins that remained in her hair. Then they were down to it as they stood again and the remaining buttons on her shirt were undone.

The revealing of her tragedy in this way couldn’t be helped, Mary knew it couldn’t be, so she contented herself with looking away and crying quietly as Anna worked. In a moment, Anna gently eased one sleeve off of her arm, then the other, and only then was her lady’s maid facing her directly enough that Mary could see her face.

Anna’s eyes were still noticing every nick and bruise while working so gently and efficiently, but Mary could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen the other’s face so drawn and… sad.

This had made Anna abjectly _sad_.

Mary felt broken herself and pained in ways that she had never imagined, yet the idea that now she was wounding her gentle confidant as well… it was only another thing to pierce her right then, and she found she had to look away again.

Her skirt, corset, stockings, and undergarments were all removed. As she was finally able to ease herself into the blessedly warm water, she found herself wondering distractedly how on earth the bloody… stableman had managed to get through all her layers of clothing.

Anna handed her a bar of soap, placing everything necessary within Mary’s reach before she asked, “Do you need anything else at the moment, milady?”

“No, you may go,” Mary answered, only just noticing how raw her voice was. Her throat, among everything else, was going to hurt terribly when she was at herself enough to care.

Anna ignored that remark for possibly the fourth time – Mary hadn’t been counting – and asked, “Would you like me to turn on the light? I doubt anyone would notice.”

“No, I won’t take the chance.”

“Yes, milady.”

Anna vanished quickly back into the bedroom then, returning with the candle that must’ve been on the other bedside table. She lit her candle from the one left for Mary, murmuring, “I’ll be back up shortly to wash your hair.”

Mary only nodded until, when Anna was halfway through the bathroom doorway, she hissed her name anxiously.

Anna retraced her last few steps, whispering, “Yes, milady?”

“Please…” Wide-eyed and pale at the prospect of it, Mary tried to frame her request. “Bates… don’t… it is imperative that no one be told—”

Anna spared them both from her fumbling, announcing softly, “I won’t tell anyone, not even Mr. Bates if you’d rather I didn’t.”

“Please, don’t.”

She nodded, agreeing, “Then I won’t,” before she left Mary alone in the bath.

In her solitude, Mary drew in a shuddering breath, determined to put the last of her tears behind her as she began to scrub resolutely at the dirt that seemed to cover every inch of her. As she worked, she wondered dismally what one might use to scrub away the feeling of griminess that was beginning to take root in what felt like her very soul.


	2. Chapter 2

Anna had to pause to collect herself no less than three times as she made her way down to the servant’s dining room. Now that she was away from Lady Mary and the work that she knew so well, she had begun to tremble, and she knew that her eyes were still glassy and red, her recent tears obvious. There was little she could do about it though; it was nearly one in the morning now, and she didn’t want to risk disturbing anyone. So, with a determined sniff and a swipe at each eye, she went into the kitchen to face her far too observant husband.

 John was on his feet with their son in his arms the moment she stepped into the doorway, though if she had to guess, by the look in his eyes he’d nodded off to sleep at least once while waiting for her. “How is Lady Mary? Are you ready to walk home yet?”

“She’s still…” Anna hesitated, glancing around the room – equal parts unwilling to lie _or_ be completely honest. “Not herself. I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long; I thought I might come down and take pity on you two. I have a couple of things to finish up, but if you want you can start home, and I’ll do my best to catch up once I’ve finished what’s left here.”

John’s eyes were narrowing upon her face by the time she finished with what she had to say, and he stepped towards her as he said, “I would do just as well to wait here and walk with you now. It’s unusually late, even for us, and I’m not sure I like the idea of you walking alone.”

“That’s ridiculous; I’ll be perfectly fine, and one of us deserves to get a little sleep tonight.”

“You think you won’t?” he asked, making no move to hide the fact that he was studying her. She felt like he could see straight through to her soul, and she couldn’t quite manage to hold his gaze. Until he shifted the baby into a one-armed hold and tilted her chin gently to face him, so that she didn’t particularly have a choice but to face him without making it obvious. “My darling, are you all right?”

“Of course.”

“Anna?” he asked again, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly. Making it clear that he didn’t truly believe her.

But she _would not_ tell him, and she nearly _could not_ lie to him, so she settled again for a weak version of the truth. “I’m only worried about Lady Mary is all,” as she held herself straight and sure in front of him – still-shaking hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“Is she badly off? Should the doctor be called?”

“Heavens, no. It’s the middle of the night. She’ll be all right, as will I. Go on home, John, please. I’ll follow you soon.”

He could tell that something was still wrong, and he did not like it, but he did not question it, so Anna couldn’t bring herself to care yet. He nodded, leaning in to kiss her goodbye. She smiled thinly at him, trying to make it reach her eyes before she ducked her head so that he was only able to kiss her hair.

Anna wasn’t even sure why she did so, but, to his credit, John only hesitated for a split second before he did as she’d indicated she wanted. But it was an action from harder past days between them, days that they had both hoped were well and truly behind them when she had been relearning his touch and her own self-worth. She tried to meet his eyes again, only to see his worry now multiplied tenfold in them, and she nearly, senselessly, began to weep.

_No, she had to get back up to Lady Mary, and had to appear strong in her presence. Not as if she’d just been crying._

“Anna, what _is_ it?”

“Nothing.” She took his hand, squeezed. “I would tell you if I could, but I can’t, so go home, let me finish my work here, and I will follow after you.”

“And then we will talk at the cottage.” He said it as if it was some sort of final word, but Anna shook her head, standing firm on this.

“No. I won’t talk about it. Just know that I am fine, Mr. Bates, and go home and go to bed.”

“Easier said than done when one knows their wife is in tears away from him.”

“Try.” She was beginning to get desperate, or the very least exasperated, as she herded him towards the servants’ exit. “Please. For me.”

John finally receded, putting on his hat, though he’d had his overcoat on for some time. “Hurry home?” he requested softly as he opened the door and prepared to step out into the night with the baby.

“I’ll do my best,” Anna agreed with a nod, spinning on her heel as soon as her husband was gone to go back to her lady.

Lady Mary was silent when Anna came in, and her expression blank. The blonde nearly would’ve preferred the tears from earlier. At least then, there was some reaction, some sign of—of life, as it were. Now her ladyship was just sitting there, her shoulders tense as she scrubbed a patch of her leg nearly raw underneath the water. She was clean now, yes, but that sort of overreaction wouldn’t do – one more ache in the midst of everything she would be feeling tomorrow.

Anna reached slowly down into the water, moving Lady Mary’s hand away from the cloth and ringing it out to dry on the edge of the tub. “Now then, your hair.”

She managed to make quick enough work of it, though the black curls were far more matted and difficult than normal to clean and tame. _Brushing it out wasn’t likely to be an easy job. Perhaps Lady Mary would let her stay long enough to help with it._ “There we are,” she said once she was done. “Would like to get out now or soak for a bit?” A silly question at this hour – hopefully – but it felt right to give Lady Mary a choice in the moment.

“Now, if you please,” Lady Mary answered, her tone perfectly normal now, though her voice itself was still raw. “I would like very much to go to bed and sleep.” Under her breath, she tacked on, “--for the rest of my life,” but in the quiet between them, Anna still heard her.


	3. Chapter 3

Anna’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth when she tried to think of something helpful to say, and instead she settled for the far more normal, “Very well, milady.” Except she hadn’t brought a dressing gown into the room; there were only the couple of towels hung on the wall. “Let me fetch your dressing gown for you while I set out your gown.”

“No, Anna, just…” Mary’s breath stuttered out for a moment as she stood. “Let me dry myself while you fetch my nightgown. Just bring it here. The less steps the better tonight.”

She couldn’t agree more, truthfully; maybe she had been remiss in trying to restore normal for Lady Mary more than trying to expedite the process. “Of course, milady.”

 _“Milady” this, “milady” that._ Anna heard herself being so formal, sounding so _dumb_ , but she didn’t know how to help beyond doing what she knew to do. Maybe in the morning she would have words of support or comfort or – or something useful, but right now she was in her own state of shock every time she looked at Lady Mary’s battered body. She could feel anxiety and panic and _memories_ pressing down on her, partially in her mind, partially just behind her breastbone, but she kept forcing it aside so that she could do her best for Lady Mary. No matter how feeble that “best” felt right now.

Lady Mary was still in something of a daze when Anna brought her nightgown into the bathroom, and Anna was half tempted to take over the task of drying her off, but she let her be, since the other woman had said she wanted to do it on her own. Going above and beyond the call of duty to coddle her might not be well received at the moment.

_Letting Lady Mary feel capable right now might also be a good idea, after all._

Soon enough, Lady Mary was dried and dressed and sitting at her vanity, letting Anna do her best to gently detangle her knotted hair. Anna found herself absently sending up a prayer of thanks that Lady Mary’s hair was at least short now. Despite her fears about the work of brushing it out taking longer, it wasn’t a lengthened process by much in the end, and in relatively short, and silent, order, Lady Mary was abed, settling beneath her sheets before Anna had even finished buttoning her jacket back in place.

Once again, just as she was nearly about to shut the bedroom door behind her, Lady Mary said, “Anna?”

“Yes, milady?”

“Promise me,” she requested. “That you won’t tell anyone what you’ve seen tonight? No one at all, ever.”

A weight settled over Anna’s shoulders as she nodded her head in the light of the candle she held, swallowing a sigh before saying, “Of course, milady. You needn’t worry.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded, offering, useless as she knew the sentiment was, “Sleep well, milady.”

“And you.”

Yet as Anna shut the bedroom door and headed back downstairs, she knew fully well that neither of them would be sleeping this night.

As she moved down the hall, blowing out the candle and leaving it in the servant’s dining hall, letting herself out and walking home… the whole time she was trying to work out what to tell John. He still knew whenever she was lying – most likely he already suspected something was amiss, given how he’d reacted before the ringing of the dressing gong when she’d told him that she was standing guard over an ill Lady Mary while the rest of her duties were left to others to perform. Perhaps, then, it would be best to tell him as much of the truth as possible.

Lady Mary was unwell and had needed help, but beyond that, she was bound by her position and loyalties to tell him nothing else. John would understand that, or at least respect it. With that plan set in her mind, it wasn’t half so difficult to step over the threshold into their own cottage. As she had expected, John was waiting for her in the sitting room, head back as his legs stretched out in front of his chair. The room was dark, though, and she found herself hoping that he’d fallen asleep.

She took off her hat, coat, and shoes in as perfect silence as she could manage, hoping to sneak by him into bed. She’d made it nearly past the sitting room before he called out tiredly, “My darling?”

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she steadied herself, suddenly realizing that she had been subconsciously planning on going to bed and having a good cry as immediately as possible. Only now she had been stopped again.

Keeping her voice steady, she said only, “Let’s go to bed, John. You said yourself it’s terribly late. You should already be asleep.”

“I was, actually, right where I am. You needn’t worry about me.”

She nodded, then continued walking towards their room without turning to look at him. She could hear him ease up from his chair and follow her on his stockinged feet.

They changed together into bedclothes without speaking, and when she sat down at her dressing table to undo and brush out her hair, he stepped up behind her and eased her hands away from her task. “How many pins am I looking for?”

She swallowed, unsure exactly what he hoped the end result of his ministrations would be. Then she felt, momentarily, ashamed of herself for such a thought. He was a good man, and sweet, and it wasn’t totally abnormal for him to help her in this way of an evening. “Seven.”

He picked out the pins that held her hair in place, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that she could’ve done it much quicker on her own. When he went to pick up her hairbrush, however, she batted his hand gently away, finger combing rapidly through the blonde waves while John took her hint and settled himself on his side of the bed. It was too late in the day – to early in the morning, actually – for any of this, but she could feel the expectation of a conversation hovering over him.

As she was finally, finally crawling into the bed beside him, he blew out the candle and lay his head back on his pillow, asking, “Are you really all right?”

“Yes.”

Facing him, she tucked her hands beneath her pillow and closed her eyes, hoping he would take the hint.

“Why did you not want me to kiss you? Did something remind you—”

“I don’t know, honestly. I told you I’m fine, and I meant it. Please, can we sleep? We must be up again far too soon at this rate.”

It had been a long time since she had felt the need to deny him something so simple and innocent as a goodbye kiss; he had a right to worry, but now was not the time to discuss it. She just desperately wanted to sleep. To forget what had happened – was happening – at the Abbey.

“May I kiss you good night?” he asked softly.

Instead of giving the question a proper answer, Anna leaned up on an arm and kissed him. He wrapped an arm loosely around her middle, and when she lay back down, she settled her head on his chest. “Good night.”

“Good night, my darling.”


	4. Chapter 4

The one and only thing Anna disliked about living in a cottage in the village was the necessity of an even earlier rising time. After getting to sleep at a little after two in the morning, five o’clock came far, far too early. And it hadn’t even been a restful sleep, her head instead filled with the echo of Mr. Green’s voice at the center of her nightmares, his hand over her mouth, suffocating her. There had been nothing worse remembered in her nightmares, thank God, but still…

“I didn’t wake you in the night, did I?” she asked John as they made up their bed.

He raised his eyebrows at her, and someone who didn’t know him as well as she did might have missed the concern that flashed through his eyes despite his cheerful expression. “Should you have?”

“I take that to mean you slept well, then?” she asked, turning to change her clothes.

“I did. Did you?”

She shrugged. “Well enough, yes.”

“That means ‘no.’” He came up behind her, putting a hand on her left shoulder as he kissed her right. “How can I help?”

She shook her head, stepping out of his hold to change her underclothes. She stood for a second to look down at her pale body, somehow surprised when it wasn’t mottled with the bruises that even John had never seen.

Bruises that would be littering Lady Mary’s body when Anna helped her change this morning.

Behind her, John hummed appreciatively.

She rolled her eyes, pulling on her clean underthings. “John Bates, I have to dress, arrange my hair, and feed your son, on three hours of sleep before I’ve even had my tea. _Hush_.”

He chuckled, only amused at her early morning ire as he began to dress. “Later, then.”

She wasn’t sure how she would feel about that suggestion once “later” arrived – depending on what her day brought – but the cry of their son from the bassinet broke up their conversation. She felt a little guilty for being so relieved.

* * *

“That’s odd,” Ms. Baxter said as a serving bell rang just as the servants sat down to breakfast.

Thomas’ gaze flickered from the bell that had rung to Anna as he asked, “I take it Lady Mary stayed ill in her old room last night?”

Anna nodded, pushing back from the table.

“Mare sure you come back down and eat something,” Mrs. Hughes said. “You turned a bit pale just now.”

She nodded again as she hurried upstairs.

Lady Mary was abed when Anna opened the bedroom door. “Oh, good, Anna. I need to talk to you. Shut the door, please, and come over here.”

Anna did as asked, hoping she wasn’t still pale as Mrs. Hughes had said. Lady Mary looked at her hands, picking at her fingernails for a moment before she winced and smoothed her hands purposefully over the bedding.

When she was at Lady Mary’s bedside – trying not to look too aghast at the black eye her ladyship was sporting this morning – the future mistress of the house announced, “I owe you an apology.”

“W-Whatever for, milady? If it’s about last night, I won’t hear it. Honestly, I won’t. I chose to stay.”

“I know you did, and that’s why you’re such a treasure to me – no, don’t be modest, I mean it. You see… I have an awful confession to make.” Lady Mary returned to picking at her fingernails and had to make herself stop again, swallowing as she met Anna’s gaze with a pained expression. “I… had forgotten, in my… my daftness last night, about Mr. Green. I would’ve never, _ever_ had you stay if I remembered; it was horrible of me to allow it, and I really must ask your forgiveness.”

Anna was certain she had sported several expressions throughout that short speech, if only because she’d been unprepared for it and had felt a myriad of emotions during it. Now she shook her head, unsure what to say. “It’s all right, milady. You certainly had a right to being absentminded last night, and, as I said, I _chose_ to stay. I would do it again in a heartbeat, too, and rest assured, it’s while I _do_ remember everything of that night with Mr. Green.”

“As I said, you might be _the_ most loyal person I know, and I appreciate what you’ve done more than I can say. If you’re sure…”

“There is _nothing_ to forgive, milady,” Anna assured her kindly.

“Very well.” Lady Mary drew herself up in the bed, then, saying, “I did have another reason for asking you up here this early. I’d like to dress now, please.”

“Of course, milady. Is there any particular business you’re attending to that might affect your clothing choice?”

“Not… exactly. I want to catch Papa in his room before he goes down for breakfast, and with what I’d like to discuss, I believe it would do well for me to look as collected as possible, that’s all.”

“Certainly.”

Dressing Lady Mary was another study in gentle, careful efficiency, as it had been the night before. It was done in complete silence until they _had_ to speak as they thought aloud together about how to best do Lady Mary’s makeup in a way that wouldn’t make it obvious she was disguising wounds. That was one thing Anna had never considered she should’ve been grateful for – there had been almost no markings on her face, and her uniform had covered her from head-to-toe and been long-sleeved to hide everything else.

In the end, because of how long Lady Mary's makeup had taken, Anna had to hurry through the last of their preparations so that the woman could make it to her father’s dressing room in the window of time that she wanted.

As Lady Mary stood in front of a full-length mirror, both her and Anna giving her reflection a stern once-over, Anna asked softly, “Ready to face the world?”

Lady Mary worried at her bottom lip before she shook her head, admitting in a whisper, “No.” She straightened, though, her eyes sharpening into an expression that looked more normal for her as she declared, “But it is time to, regardless, and what I have to say really can’t wait. I’d better hurry. Thank you, Anna. Again.”

“You’re very welcome, milady.”

Lady Mary steeled herself with a breath and then walked out into the hallway.


	5. Chapter 5

_Bates._

The valet opened the door to her father’s room, and worry curled in Mary’s already nauseous stomach. _What if she hadn’t thought this through as well as she ought’ve? What if he – or anyone – could tell that something was the matter with her?_ But maybe her worry was nothing; maybe she would’ve thought such things regardless of who the first person she saw had been. It had only _happened_ to be Bates, that was all. It didn’t – and didn’t have to – mean _anything_. She desperately prayed it wouldn’t.

“May I come in?”

Her father’s head appeared in her line of sight. “Mary? You’re up early, aren’t you? Come in. Is everything all right?”

Mary bypassed Bates, glancing back to ensure that the valet shut the door before she answered, “Well… no, not really.”

Her father’s eyebrows drew together as Bates moved to help him into his suit jacket. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s one of the stablemen. I need him dismissed immediately.”

“Who? And _why_?”

Mary paused, trying to remember his name. “Edgar something-or-other? Edwin?” Tears that she refused to allow to fall pricked at the backs of her eyes as she inwardly berated herself for not paying attention to such simple details. Whether or not she interacted with the stablemen very often, she should know that much when it came to her own home.

“Edmond Littlejohn?”

Mary shrugged helplessly, though she was careful to keep her expression leaning more towards “exasperated.”

“Tall fellow? Brown hair, grey eyes, enough muscle to lift one of the horses if they don’t obey him?”

Any other time, Mary might’ve chuckled at his description. Now she only nodded.

“But what has he done? He’s only worked here a few weeks, surely that’s not long enough for such an unforgivable infraction.”

“I can’t say, Papa, but he cannot stay.”

“And I cannot make him go without a reason. We both know that’s nowhere near fair. If you’re going to be so insistent about sacking him, I need to know why I’m doing so.”

Dread curled in Mary’s stomach, and she really thought she might be sick. She opened her mouth to try and say something to convince him – _she really should’ve had the presence of mind to think through this better_ – when a knock sounded at the door.

“Who now?” her father asked, aggravation leaking into his tone. Bates opened the door again, but this time instead of letting anyone in he stuck his head out the door for a whispered conversation. “Who is it, Bates?”

Anna slipped into the room around her husband. “Begging your pardon. I’m sorry to intrude, your lordship, but I had a feeling Lady Mary might be telling you about a wayward member of the household.”

Both Crawleys in the room raised their eyebrows at her as Lord Grantham said, “As a matter of fact, she was.” He shot Mary a look before turning back to Anna and adding, “Only she wasn’t being very informative. Perhaps you can be more helpful if you know of the situation?”

Anna took a deep, shuddering breath, casting her uncertain gaze to the floor as she said, “I believe I can.” She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, and Mary was left silent and scrambling to figure out what was happening. Something was _wrong_ , whatever was going to happen. “It’s only…” Anna drew herself up, and Mary watched her push away her nerves as she said, “I’m sure what her ladyship is hesitant to say is that he has been accused of indecent behavior towards some of the female staff.”

Mary had to fight to keep her eyebrows from raising – to keep her expression reasonably neutral – as her father asked the question she was thinking. “Has he? I wasn’t aware of any such thing.”

“I’m afraid I only confessed it to Lady Mary yesterday while looking after her. I apologize.”

Lord Grantham waved aside her apology, asking, “Do Barrow or Mrs. Hughes know?”

“No, milord.”

“And who exactly has issued the complaints against Mr. Littlejohn?”

Mary was, in a strange way, impressed with her lady’s maid. She knew Anna well by now, she felt, but even she could only tell Anna was lying because of a tightness around her eyes. The lord of the house had no idea she was being dishonest, in part, probably, because their subject matter could account for any fidgeting on Anna’s part. Bates, behind her father – and thankfully out of his sight for the moment – had gone still, watching Anna in growing confusion; Mary suspected he’d noted the same tell of deception she had, but he had no frame of reference for _why_ Anna was saying these things.

Hopefully he never would.

This question from Lord Grantham was the one that gave Anna pause. _Who was she going to choose to draw into this?_

Anna fixed her gaze on something behind Lord Grantham – Bates’ shoes – her expression going almost blank as she murmured, “Me, milord. I only spoke with Lady Mary about myself.”

Now when Lord Grantham glanced back at Bates, the valet’s bafflement made sense. Mary, however, watched Anna with a breaking heart. She vehemently hoped that her lady’s maid was lying to save someone else from being drawn into this – and to rescue Mary from herself _(why?)_ – but on the other hand, who would lie about something like this, of all things?

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Mrs. Bates,” he said earnestly. “Do you know if anyone else has had trouble with him?”

“No, I don’t know.”

Lord Grantham nodded pensively. “I’ll talk to him right after breakfast and see what steps we must take.”

“He _must_ be dismissed from Downton!” Mary insisted. “And preferably expelled from the area as entirely as possible.”

Her father leveled his gaze upon her, and she could tell he was wearying of the conversation as he repeated, “I will see what must be done right after breakfast. Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention. Bates, I can finish on my own, if you’d rather…” he gestured towards Mary and Anna.

Bates, eyes still troubled, glanced at Anna, who shook her head minutely. So Bates said, “I can finish here, if I may?”

“Certainly.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Mary said, moving back towards the door with Anna at her side. For now, she had done as much as she could regarding her attacker. 


	6. Chapter 6

Mary put a hand on Anna’s elbow as soon as they were alone, steering her into a quiet alcove to hiss, “Is that true? What you said about Littlejohn… hurting you?”

“No! No, not at all.” Anna shook her head sharply, laying a calming hand on Mary’s arm.

“Then why would you say such things?”

Anna blinked before beginning, “If you’re angry that I lied—”

“I’m not angry with you, I simply don’t understand _why_.”

“His lordship _has_ to have a reason to sack him, milady, and it’s always best to tell as close to the truth as you can.”

Mary released a slow breath. “So, you chose to sacrifice yourself.”

Anna smiled, thin and saddened, at her, the hand on her arm squeezing comfortingly. “Because I am secure in my place here, despite any violence done against me, as has been proven. I don’t mind half so much as you do right now to tell about such a crime against a person.”

“But harassing fellow servants – female or not – is not half so serious as… as his true crime! You cannot guarantee that it will be enough to cost him his position!”

Anna smiled, gentle and adoring now as she said, “You underestimate both men in that dressing room; Mr. Bates will urge him to dismiss Mr. Littlejohn if I know my husband as I think I do.”

Mary suddenly blanched, realizing aloud, “Bates will question you, won’t he?”

Anna paused to consider for a second before she decided, “I will tell him the truth –” seeing Mary’s look of horror, she held up a hand for peace and continued, “That I was speaking in place of, as you said, a _female_ of the house who has trusted me to let her remain anonymous.”

“And he won’t question it?”

“I won’t tell him even if he does ask,” Anna replied, maintaining resolute eye contact. She _meant_ it.

_Thank God._

 Mary felt a bit of tension loosen between her shoulder blades as she said, “Oh, Anna, thank you so much. Truly, for everything. You’ve never been anything but a dear friend to me, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am. You must let me know if there’s ever any way I can repay you.”

“Of course, milady,” she replied dismissively.

“But… how did you even know what I wanted to talk to Papa about? How did you know to come to my rescue?”

Anna shrugged slightly. “I know what I wanted done regarding Mr. Green immediately after… the attack, but I didn’t have the courage to do it until later. So, I thought I might be able to help you do it for yourself now. Because you are courageous enough and determined enough to try to immediately say what you’d like to.”

“But I failed at it.” Mary rolled her eyes at herself, a feeling of weakness and self-hatred curdling in her stomach until she clenched her jaw. “I fumbled it so, and you had to come rescue me!”

“But you _tried_ ,” Anna repeated firmly, taking her hands and squeezing them – another display of her certainty. “And today that is certainly enough.”

Mary nodded, letting Anna soothe her as she said again, “Thank you.” And then she sighed deeply, realizing, “I suppose since I’ve already made an appearance with Papa, he will expect me at breakfast.”

Anna gave her a sympathetic look, reminding her, “You’re courageous, remember? You can very well handle a routine breakfast with your family, if you’d like.”

Mary nodded, offering Anna a frightfully timid smile as she murmured, “I may as well go down, then; Papa will be at the table soon.”

“All right?” Anna asked softly.

Mary nodded again. She straightened her shoulders, telling herself that if Anna – someone who had survived more than Mary could imagine going through – thought she was brave, then she very well _could_ get through “a routine breakfast.” She slipped her hand away from Anna’s and went to breakfast with her head held high – even if she felt like she didn’t deserve to do so.

Tom was alone at the table, with Barrow at his post, when Mary came in. She was surprised, but not unhappy, as she slid into a seat.

“Good morning,” Tom said cheerfully. “How are you?”

Before she could even form a proper answer, Matthew came in, eyes brightening when they fell upon her. “Mary! Are you feeling better, darling?”

He came to his chair beside her but leaned in for a kiss instead of sitting. She shied away as inconspicuously as she could, surprised at the frantic beating of her own heart as glanced away so no one could see her upset. “Better, yes,” she answered levelly enough. “But not _well_ , so I would rather not… infect you.”

When she glanced up at him, Matthew’s mouth was twisted into a mockery of disappointment, but he seemed to be teasing more than anything as he answered, “Very well; as you wish.”

He sat, and only then did Mary silently release the breath that had caught in her throat.

Matthew was still watching her, though, and his eyes narrowed slightly upon her as he asked, “Are you sure you should be up, though? I know Anna said you didn’t feel it was a bad enough illness to call Dr. Clarkson, but you do look a bit pale. You could have breakfast in bed, you know. You’re usually so fond of doing so.”

He was giving her a way out, and with the nauseating knots in her stomach, she would be a fool not to take it. “I had business to discuss with Papa,” she answered the question he hadn’t exactly asked, adding, “But I’m afraid you might be right.” She pushed her chair back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

She ducked out of sight of the room and its occupants before putting a hand over her mouth – whether to stifle tears or her growing nausea, she wasn’t certain which. She walked quickly upstairs, purposefully taking a route that meant she would be less likely to run into her father as he came down for breakfast.

And Mary did bypass her father – but as she reached the upstairs landing and her eyes filled with tears, she nearly ran headlong into Bates as he stepped out of his lordship’s dressing room with a fistful of collars. She gasped, horrified and embarrassed now, and stepped around him with eyes cast down to hide their glassiness.

“I’m so sorry,” she said hastily, resuming her retreat towards her old bedroom.

“It’s all right.” She could hear the worry in his voice as he said, “Milady?”

Mary made herself stop, though she didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

She reasoned, after all, that it would be better for him to question her and not Anna. Not even in her current state would she want her lady’s maid put in _that_ position.

“Are you quite all right?”

“Well enough, yes, but I’m still feeling a bit ill, so Mr. Crawley has sent me back to bed.”

“Ah, I won’t keep you, then. Would you like something brought to your room for you, milady?”

“Breakfast on a tray, I think, if I’m to go back to bed. I’ll ring for Anna to help me with the rest. Thank you, Bates.”

“Of course, milady. I’ll tell Mrs. Patmore about your breakfast, and I’m sure a maid will bring it up shortly. Anna, I believe, may even still be in your room.”

“Perfect. I’ll go then, before I miss her.”

Mary hurried on, changing course for her and Matthew’s room, before he could say anything more, hoping she had satisfied his curiosity – but also very sure that she hadn’t. 


	7. Chapter 7

Anna had been retrieving a dress with a tear in it from Lady Mary’s wardrobe, her back to the door, when her ladyship slipped in. Startled, Anna watched as her mistress dropped heavily onto the edge of the bed. “Milady?” she asked, concerned by the look in the other woman’s eyes.

 _The_ Lady Mary Crawley looked a little… lost – baffled and… horrified.

_What had happened?_

“I…” Lady Mary blinked blankly at her. “He – Matthew…” she drew herself up to her usual picture of poise, announcing unfeelingly, “He tried to kiss me good morning, and I nearly panicked. I thought I was going to be ill, and I must’ve looked it, because he suggested I come back to bed.” Emotions – none of them good – started to leak back into her tone. “I practically _ran_ back here – ran _away_ – because of a single _unsuccessful_ kiss _from my husband_. Anna,” she spread her hands wide, met Anna’s gaze with a nearly too-open expression, and asked, “How broken am I to be?!”

Anna’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Don’t say that, milady,” she said quickly, with a thread of iron woven into her tone. “I know it feels that way, but it’s not true. You’re not broken. Just… a little cracked around the edges, at the moment.”

“I feel like I’ve been split in half,” Mary admitted quietly, from between clenched teeth. “In more way than one. I feel…” her chest heaved, eyes listlessly scanning the floor as she struggled to find the words. “So _broken_ , and _dirty_ , and… _lesser_ , and… and _wrong_.”

Anna swallowed roughly, setting the dress on the end of the bed to go crouch in front of Lady Mary so that she had to meet her eyes. She balanced her fingertips on the floor, hoping that would still their trembling as she said softly, “But you are none of those things. _None_ of them. You are not broken; you may be cracked, but you are, and will, mend. You are _not_ dirty. You are _far_ from _lesser_ ; you’re still ‘Lady Mary Crawley,’ remember? That means you are still capable of being a formidable force, whether or not you think so right now. And – listen to me now – you _are not in the wrong_ here. You did not ask for this or do something to bring it on. You are innocent, and _he_ is wrong, and that means you are just as innocent of any of this as you were before it even happened, do you understand?”

Lady Mary looked away, biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t feel innocent.”

Anna raised an eyebrow, tried very gently to lighten her ladyship’s mood. “You’re a married woman; I doubt very much that you’ve felt innocent in years.”

Lady Mary shook her head hopelessly, not taking the bait. “This is different.”

At a sudden loss, Anna nodded, murmuring, “I know. I only meant that you are innocent of any wrongdoing. You do know that, don’t you?”

Lady Mary drew in a slow breath to calm herself, answering, “Logically, yes, I think I do. I think I remember, in times past, that I’ve felt the need to… to preach such things to… someone, though I never did, and I suppose I’m sorry for it now.” Anna offered her a very small smile, neither one of them naïve as to who Lady Mary’s mention of “someone” entailed, as she finished, “But my point is that I must’ve believed it at some point. Only, it feels very different when discussing one’s own self. The idea of being utterly powerless in something that is affecting me so much is terrible. Does that make sense?”

Anna had to pause to consider that, because she’d never thought of it in that way before. After a couple of seconds, she answered honestly, “I think so – but I also think that might be because of your personality. You like to be in control, milady, and I can see where you might feel that it would be better to have some sort of hand in it rather than being, as you said, utterly powerless. I can understand that being the case for you.”

“But you disagree?” Lady Mary asked, starting to regain control of her emotions as she took off her necklace.

Anna began to unbuckle her ladyship’s shoes while she was already crouched down, answering slowly – still loath to directly discussing her own ordeal if she didn’t have to – “Personally, I found comfort in the notion that I’d not done anything to encourage… him. I had been friendly to him, as I felt most of the servants were, and he had flirted with me a couple of times, but I thought he was teasing and put him off in kind. My heart and mind were pure in my notions towards him, so how could I have, even partly, been responsible for such a vile act? I told him I wanted away, he did not listen, and what, what happened was not my fault because he knew I didn’t want it. In that, there’s no difference between you and I, milady. It’s not your fault; you did less than nothing to encourage the… the attentions of a _stableman_ ; I know you well enough to know that.”

“So, I am powerless,” Lady Mary summed up, dark and succinct.

“You _were_ ,” Anna corrected, standing to put the shoes away and retrieve a nightgown. “His part in this is done; he’ll soon be leaving the abbey…” she sighed. “And you’ll be left to pick up the pieces. What you do with those pieces is up to you. Now you have your power back.” She met her ladyship’s eyes as she laid the nightgown on the edge of the bed, asking, “What will you do with it?”

Lady Mary stood with her back to Anna so that the lady’s maid could unbutton her dress. “Right now, I’m afraid I really would like to go back to bed.”

“Very well, milady,” Anna answered, allowing the moment to pass as she took to her task.

Just as she was about to leave the bedroom once Lady Mary was settled into bed a knock came at the door. Anna opened the door, expecting one of the maids with her ladyship’s breakfast.

“I come bearing breakfast.” Mr. Crawley poked his head in before he came into the room properly and set the tray on his wife’s bedside table as Anna had done a few hundred times. “Though I did have to wrestle it away from Madge to get the honor of bringing it up.”

Lady Mary chuckled dryly under her breath as Anna said a little worriedly, “I was on my way to fetch that, sir.”

“No need.” The look Mr. Crawley gave her was completely unbothered as he sat on the edge of the bed and explained, “It gave me a good reason to look in on our resident invalid.” Turning back to Lady Mary, he said, “Really, darling, if you continue on this way, at the very least I will ask Barrow to come check on you, or, more likely, fetch Mother to do so.”

“No, no. There’s no reason for that,” Lady Mary assured him with a thin smile, reaching for her tray. “I think I may just need another day to recover from this… whatever little thing is making me ill.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” He was scanning every inch of her that he could see not-so-covertly, and he asked, “You – Mary, are you bruised? I thought I caught a glimpse of something on your wrist at the breakfast table and now that I look at your face, your eye is swollen, isn’t it?”

“Matthew,” the single word heralded a rise in Lady Mary’s temper – though Anna wondered if it wasn’t more likely the start of panic – before she closed her eyes and drew in a breath, trying again. “I’m fine, my darling. I took a spill from my horse when I began to get dizzy yesterday, that’s all. I walked him home, and then went to bed.”

“Mary, you could be concussed! I really think—”

“Please, leave it, and me, alone! Give me one full day of peace, at least, before you begin to worry so.”

Mr. Crawley huffed slightly, still clearly worried as he gave her another once-over. “So tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow what?” Lady Mary asked, and, silently observing, Anna felt dread for her friend begin to curl in her stomach.

“Tomorrow, you’ll let Mother look in on you? Tomorrow, we can get this settled?”

Lady Mary looked at him for a very long moment in worried silence, her dark eyes sliding momentarily to Anna and back to Mr. Crawley again. She heaved a great sigh, agreeing, “Very well, tomorrow, you and I can ‘get this settled’ between us.”


	8. Chapter 8

Mr. Crawley followed Anna out of his and Lady Mary’s bedroom, leaving Lady Mary to eat her breakfast in peace, and hopefully catch up on some of the sleep Anna was sure she had missed the night before. Glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Crawley as she started her trek back to the downstairs, she said kindly, “You’d better hurry back to the breakfast table, or else you’ll miss your chance.”

“The same could be said for you,” he answered her calmly, though there was no longer any merriment in his eyes as there had been when he’d stepped into his bedchamber. “If you haven’t missed it already.”

“Oh, no, I have. I’m under orders from Mrs. Hughes to eat something anyway, though.” This she said in hopes that he might not follow her, as he seemed inclined to.

Her hopes were all but dashed as he instead started to keep pace with her, asking almost under his breath, “Are you sure Mary’s all right?”

“I’m sure she will be,” Anna returned as brightly as she could manage.

“But she isn’t right now?”

“No,” she answered kindly, doing her best to assuage his worry. “I don’t think her illness is bad at all; if I know her as I think I do, I doubt it’ll keep her down for more than a couple more days. The fall from her horse, though… she is very badly bruised, Mr. Crawley. That will take time to heal, I’m afraid.”

He shook his head, giving her a look that she couldn’t interpret – something that said that he was having trouble deciphering her, too. Good. Or at least she thought it was good – until he announced in a whisper, “Anna, something doesn’t add up.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Mr. Crawley stared at her in silence for a second, as if something had made him want to contradict her, and then, very quietly – for the sake of privacy, not as a threat – he did. “Except I think you do.”

Anna stayed very still so as not to give anything away, replying, “If you think something is amiss with Lady Mary, I would advise you to do as you’ve said and wait until tomorrow to question her. And if you must question her, then I would advise you to do it very, very gently.”

This time, she didn’t wait for him to respond. Whether or not it was proper, she slipped away and down the staircase without waiting for any sort of a dismissal.

* * *

“Littlejohn didn’t seem at all surprised at being dismissed, you know,” Lord Grantham blurted as John fixed his cufflinks in place on his dinner jacket.

John drew in a breath, knowing very well his lordship was watching him a bit closer than normal. “I should hope not, behaving as he has.”

“Had Anna really not mentioned it to you before she spoke of it this morning?”

John ticked an eyebrow upwards. “If she had, you might’ve been the first person I told, and I would’ve told you immediately, if I’d been able.”

Lord Grantham nodded. “Of course, Bates. Only… I can’t shake the feeling that something seems strange about it all.”

“Oh?” John agreed, but he felt more inclined to let his lordship draw his own conclusions. The two of them had had more than enough frank conversation this morning after Anna and Lady Mary had left about whether or not Littlejohn should be immediately dismissed.

“Do you not think Mary and Anna were acting a bit strange this morning?”

John considered that in silence for a beat before he admitted, “Yes, but I’m not sure what to make of what I… think I might have seen in their mannerisms.”

“Were you able to discuss it with Anna at all today?”

John shook his head. “She… I think she’s been avoiding me today; she’s stayed either in Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley’s room with Lady Mary, or she’s been in the sewing room on the other side of the house with her mending.” He debated for another second before admitting with a harsh swallow, “But that sort of behavior is consistent with the story she told this morning.” _Given the precedent he had in her past with Green, anyway._

“Maybe she’s only worried about Mary being taken ill; I’m sure it’s not a pointed avoidance, Bates.”

John made himself smile, however briefly, at his lordship as he finished brushing off his jacket and took a step back to survey his handiwork. “Will that be all, milord?”

* * *

“Mary?”

Mary was back in her old bedroom, where she had been hoping Matthew would leave her alone for the night, yet here he was, knocking on her bedroom door. She bit back a sigh and nodded when Anna – who had faithfully found a reason to stay nearby over half the time today – glanced at her for permission to let him in.

When Anna opened the door, Matthew wasn’t the only one to step into the room, however. Lord Grantham was at his heels.

“Papa?” she asked, slipping on the robe that Anna hastily fetched from her wardrobe. “What is it?”

“I thought I might catch the two of you a little more privately,” Lord Grantham said by way of apology for his intrusion. “I wanted to let you know that Mr. Littlejohn was dismissed this afternoon, and he’s due to return to his family’s farm on the first train tomorrow morning.”

Mary wasn’t entirely prepared for the wave of relief that rushed over her, and when she stumbled backwards a step, Matthew stepped forward just as quickly to catch her arm. She flinched without meaning to, barely managing to catch herself before she jerked away from his touch. No need to cause that much of a scene, of course. Not when she knew full well that he really was only trying to help.

“Good,” she said, her voice coming out far more faintly than she’d meant for it to.

“Are you all right?” Matthew asked her, to which she only nodded mutely.


	9. Chapter 9

“That’s very good, milord,” Anna said, if for no other reason than to draw the attention away from Lady Mary. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Lord Grantham looked worriedly at Lady Mary, but he apparently decided Mr. Crawley’s hands were capable enough to handle her and turned back to Anna. “Again, I’m so sorry, and if there’s ever anything we can do, you’ll be sure to let us know?”

“Of course, milord.”

“In which case, I will bid you all ‘good night.’”

“Good night, Robert,” Mr. Crawley bid him.

Anna repeated, “Good night, milord.”

Even Lady Mary rallied well enough and said evenly, “Good night, Papa.”

As Lord Grantham stepped out, Mr. Crawley turned to Lady Mary and said, “I only came in to tell you ‘good night;’ I wasn’t expecting your father to follow me.” His brow knit in concern as he asked her, “He upset you?”

Lady Mary shook her head. “Oh, no, I was just so relieved.”

Mr. Crawley looked between the two women in the room, clearly still confused, but when no further explanation was offered, he checked, “So you’re all right, Mary?”

She nodded but remained silent.

“…And I don’t suppose I could convince you to come back to our room before you’ve ended your own quarantine?”

Lady Mary’s small smile was a dozen versions of sad and torn and depreciating as she shook her head again. “No, Matthew, I’m afraid not.”

He appeared to swallow a sigh, eyes darting away for a moment before he said, “Then I will bit you ‘good night’ also.”

As he started back to her door, Lady Mary said impulsively, “Matthew?”

He turned back to her, an eyebrow ticked upward – until worry clouded his eyes as he took in her pale face, wide eyes, and shaking hands clasped in front of her. “Mary?”

“I do love you, very, very much.”

He looked momentarily startled before his expression softened. “I know that. And I love you – ‘very, very much.’”

Lady Mary nodded, her expression telling him he was now free to go.

Before he did so, he checked, “You will tell me tomorrow what’s the matter?”

Lady Mary nodded, apparently rendered silent again, until Mr. Crawley left. Anna had already been dismissed for the evening, she could’ve gone behind him, but with one glance at her ladyship, she decided to stay a moment longer.

“Milady,” she asked a little coaxingly. “What is it?”

Lady Mary was picking at her fingernails again as she whispered to the floorboards, “What if he doesn’t? Love me anymore, I mean? What if this…” she swallowed. “Stableman is the last straw and now I’m just… worth too little? Too dirty, too broken? What if I tell him, and he is as disgusted with me as I am with myself? What if it renders me unlovable? What if that was the last time my husband ever tells me he loves me?”

Anna shook her head fiercely, taking a deep breath before she said, “You know that’s not true – not _possible._ Mr. Crawley loves you dearly – he just said so – and he will continue to love you just as much. Right now, it’s been a hard day and you’re tired, and you will feel better and think more clearly about it all in the morning.”

“And if the morning only spells my doom?”

Anna raised her eyebrows as Lady Mary met her gaze. Judging by her ladyship’s face… “Now you know you’re being dramatic.”

“What if he decides to cast me out and divorce me?”

“Why would you even say such a thing?”

Lady Mary looked at her with firmly reigned-in panic in her eyes as she shot back, “Because it could happen! He could call me unfaithful if I’m unwilling to admit that I—that it was an attack.”

“But he won’t,” Anna insisted, surprised when she registered the exasperated ferocity in her own tone. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and she felt the growing desire to just _scream_. Or cry. But she hadn’t cried since leaving the Abbey the night before, and neither crying nor screaming was acceptable at the moment. She took a deep breath instead, looking down as she forced herself to relax. “I’m sorry, milady; I shouldn’t have snapped. Perhaps I ought to go?”

Lady Mary let out a long, low sigh. “You’re free to if you wish, but I hope I haven’t run you off.”

“No,” Anna shook her head slowly. “But… perhaps this isn’t something I can help you with. _This_ is why you need to talk to Mr. Crawley. Terrifying as I know it is to do, he’s the only one who can _really_ help you dismiss that fear.”

“Then why…” Lady Mary glanced around the room as if she hoped to find the words she was looking for written on the walls. “Why did you try, if it’s _his_ … job?”

“Because I hate it all for you,” Anna answered simply. “And I want to help you in every way I possibly can. So, I might as well try in everything that I can – even when my attempts are inadequate. Does that make sense?”

Lady Mary nodded hesitantly. “I think so.”

Anna huffed almost silently, reading between the lines to head “not really.”

“Perhaps we’re too… wrung out for this,” Lady Mary suggested, shrugging out of her robe.

 _Dismissal._ “Will that be all then, milady?”

“Yes. Thank you, Anna.”

* * *

 

Matthew slipped out of his wife’s old bedroom and walked to Robert’s dressing room like a man on a mission. He knocked on the door and, as Bates opened it, he heard Robert complain, “What, has this become my office and meeting room?”

“I’m sorry to invade,” Matthew apologized as Bates shut the door behind him. “But I wondered why you felt the need to privately tell Mary and Anna that Littlejohn had been sacked. Why not tell Mary over dinner, or at least in the drawing room?”

Robert paused, discomfort slashing momentarily across his face as he glanced at Bates, then back to Matthew. “Mary came to me this morning and said she’d gotten complaints from some of the female staff about… untoward behavior towards them, so I thought the matter deserved the same amount of discretion she gave it.”

“Oh, dear. Everyone is all right, I hope?”

Again, Matthew saw Robert glance rapidly towards Bates then away before he told Matthew slowly, “I believe so, yes.”

Matthew’s gaze turned towards the valet then, too, not letting his suspicions show as he asked, “Bates, you’re around the staff more regularly than we are. Are they… well?”

It was unusual for Matthew to do more than take Robert’s word for things when it came to the staff, he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was used to considering and studying cases – stories – from every angle, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Mary’s and Anna’s odd behaviors were because of something more than they were letting on. He was beginning to wonder if their unusual behavior was connected to the other unusual event of the day – Littlejohn’s sacking. Now it was beginning to appear that he was barking up the correct proverbial tree.


	10. Chapter 10

Bates kept his back turned to Matthew as he put away Robert’s cuff-links and answered, “I’ve noticed nothing amiss.”

“Yes, but ‘the female staff’ is now comprised of Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes, Daisy, Baxter, and Anna, correct?”

“And the laundress,” Robert reminded him.

Undeterred, Matthew inquired of Bates, “So surely you’ve noticed something? You must have some idea, at least, of who issued the complaint.”

Lord Grantham’s tie was hung back up as Bates swallowed, lips pinching for a moment before he smoothed out his expression and said, “Truly, sir, I haven’t noticed anything that gives credence to their story.”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed, and even Robert caught his man’s odd phrasing there. _Bending his words so that he could tell the truth without telling… the_ entire _truth._ “Do you think they’re lying?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

That gave Bates pause before he answered honestly, “I don’t know, sir.”

“Anna still hasn’t talked to you, then?” Robert asked Bates. Bates shook his head, and Robert turned to ask Matthew, “Yet you think something is amiss?”

“I do.”

“Why? Has Mary said something to you about the whole thing?”

“Mary,” Matthew admitted slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Has been avoiding me as entirely as possible, both yesterday and today. “Something is… _off_ with my wife, and – and, frankly, with Anna, too, it appears to me – and both of them refuse to tell me what. Only… I feel rather as if I’ve just made some sort of an _appointment_ with Mary for in the morning to sort it all out.”

Robert looked worried at that, and even Bates’ usual stoicism seemed almost _overly_ stoic, at the moment, if that were possible. “If you know you’re going to work it out in the morning,” Robert suggested. “Why not leave it there, my boy?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Matthew admitted. “But… I felt I had to try and understand, to know if there was anything you might be able to tell me before I… jump in with both feet, as it were, tomorrow.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything more than what I’ve already told you,” Robert said apologetically.

Technically, Matthew knew that wasn’t true. He could’ve asked for the specifics of what Mary had told her father this morning. He could’ve asked why Robert had clearly addressed both Mary and Anna in Mary’s old room if only Mary had come to him. And if Anna had come too, why was she being left out of Robert’s retelling? _Why_ were she and Mary being so damnably secretive and reclusive today?

But perhaps Robert wasn’t the best person to question… Matthew adored his father-in-law, but he knew very well that Lord Grantham wasn’t always the most… critically-thinking person in the Abbey. If a puzzle had been presented in their midst, there were others who had almost certainly given it more thought than Robert Crawley.

“That’s all right,” Matthew said, backing towards the door. “Thank you, and good night.”

He slipped out the door, but rather than going into his and Mary’s room, he ducked into an alcove to wait out of sight. Only a minute passed before he heard Anna come out of Mary’s room and hurry down the hall. When he heard Baxter exit Robert and Cora’s room, he walked as quickly as he dared to the servants’ door that led to Robert’s dressing room, secure in the idea that no one would stumble upon him now.

When he emerged from Robert’s dressing room, Bates showed no surprise at finding Matthew waiting for him. Instead, he closed the dressing room door firmly before asking sedately, “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

“What’s the story that Mary gave about this Littlejohn fellow?” Matthew asked forthrightly, something telling him Bates would rather deal with that than someone who was trying to beat around the bush as Matthew had with Robert.

Bates sighed, glancing away, then back to Matthew again as he said, “The story is that he was bothering Anna, which is somehow why Lady Mary was told directly instead of going through the proper channels of Mrs. Hughes and Barrow to his lordship.”

“Do you believe that story?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Bates said again. “As I’ve said, I’ve not had a private moment to talk to Anna about any of it today.”

Matthew narrowed his eyes, considering the man before him for a second before he asked, “But something about it all bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Bates appeared to swallow a sigh. “Anna… came into his lordship’s dressing room while Lady Mary was talking to him, and they began to tell the story of Littlejohn together. But… I know Anna a little better now, then I once did. I really do know when she’s lying, and, at best, she withheld information today. My… fear is that she… minimized what Littlejohn did. That’s what I told Lord Grantham, and that’s part of why Littlejohn was sacked so quickly.”

“You think she was attacked again?” Matthew asked softly, the notion making his stomach churn as he thought of the smiling lady’s maid… and the way she hadn’t smiled once today, so that he’d seen.

“I don’t know,” Bates answered, and it seemed to grate on him that those words were the only answer he kept coming back to.

“Well,” Matthew said, considering it all, seeing how that notion fit with the other puzzle pieces he’d gathered, while he stared down the hall. “That certainly explains Anna’s strange behavior… but not Mary’s, and not some of what Anna’s said to me today, for that matter.”

Bates looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘what Anna’s said?’ If I may ask?”

“I tried to get her to tell me what she knew this morning; I followed her out of Mary’s room, and tried to strike up a conversation between the bedroom and the servants’ hall. It was in a public area, and I did nothing inappropriate, but… she became a bit defensive, and left quite before I was done with our conversation – but not before telling me to handle things gently if I meant to talk to Mary about any of it.”

“Did you? Talk to Lady Mary, that is?”

“No,” Matthew frowned. “As I said, Mary’s been going out of her way today not be alone with me, and yesterday, I didn’t see her at all after she…” he froze and felt rather as if his heart might’ve done the same thing inside his chest. His tone dropped an octave as he finished faintly, “After she left for her ride in the afternoon.”

Forcing himself to take a step back mentally and look at that idea logically – if one assumed that Mary had been attacked, not Anna… and if Anna had been protecting her mistress…

“Oh, god.” Running a hand over his mouth, Matthew felt suddenly ill.

“Sir, you shouldn’t assume such things – or anything – until you talk to Lady Mary,” Bates pointed out firmly, keeping Matthew from getting too lost in his own thoughts. “Perhaps his lordship is right. It does you no good to worry now, if you know all is to be revealed and settled in the morning. Leave it ‘til then. Go to bed. Sleep. This sort of conjecture really will do you no good until you can know for sure.”

Bates was right; just because the pieces _could fit_ didn’t mean that Matthew had stumbled upon the truth. Maybe it really _would_ be better to put it all from his mind and talk it out with Mary tomorrow, rather than assume the worst and make himself miserable for nothing. With that thought firmly in mind, he made himself draw in a breath, nod, and start the walk back to his dressing room. If nothing else, once he got there, he could ask Mosley to bring him a drink before he fell into a sleepless night in the cold bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Unlike the night before, Anna was waiting for John at the servants’ entrance to the Abbey when he was done with his duties for the evening. “Did something hold you up?” she asked him with a cheerful smile, bouncing their child gently in her arms. “I thought his lordship went to bed not long after he left Lady Mary’s room.”

John shot her a look of surprise as he slipped on his jacket and hat. “His lordship visited Lady Mary in her room after she went up?”

Anna nodded, suddenly hoping that saying even that wasn’t saying _too much_ as John held the door open for her. “He wanted to let her know she’d gotten her way about something or another.”

John glanced at her again, but they walked out of the glow of the few lights from the abbey before she could decipher the emotion in his gaze. There were a few seconds of silence between them, and they passed companionably until John said quietly, “I doubt that the dismissal of Mr. Littlejohn is something that she would consider a little ‘something or another.’”

Anna’s heartbeat stuttered, and she covered the tightening of her hands by tucking the baby in closer to her chest.

Tension sprang up palpably in the air surrounding Anna, and John sighed. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, he reached for one of her hands while they walked, holding it gently as he asked, “Did Mr. Littlejohn hurt you?”

“No,” she replied immediately. “You were there when we talked to Lord Grantham; he said vulgar things that made me uncomfortable, I told Lady Mary, and you know what happened next.”

He swallowed, and she could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, though she didn’t look at him. “You promise me that is all?”

“Yes,” she answered, though she couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice as completely as she would’ve liked.

He drew up short in a sliver of moonlight as it fell across the road, using their joined hands to draw her to him. His free hand came to rest on her cheek, worry filling his eyes. “Anna… what are you hiding? If something has… happened to you, _tell me_ , please. I know you didn’t tell his lordship the truth – or at least not all of it – this morning.”

Anna shook her head. “Maybe I didn’t, but I need you to believe me when I say that I am fine, John. Don’t worry about me; it’s a waste, as you have nothing to worry about. I promise.” On impulse, she rose on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss before asking with a soft smile, “Can we go home now, please?”

He nodded, and they continued their walk home still hand in hand, but she could tell he wasn’t through with the subject, and after a minute in silence he asked carefully, “If there is nothing for me to worry about…” He held up their joined hands. “Why has there been a fine tremor in your hands for the past day? From what I’ve noticed, that only happens when your memories get too close to the surface, usually as a precursor to night terrors.” As if he was afraid she might break, he said gently, “You’re not all right, Anna.”

She released a slow breath, not quite willing to talk about it out in the open, but that was what he wanted, and it wasn’t as if they were likely to meet anyone on the road at this hour. “Nothing happened to me, John,” she replied a little curtly. “And that information should be good enough for you, shouldn’t it?”

He didn’t answer her, but let another beat of silence pass before he asked, “Did something happen to Lady Mary, then?”

Anna flinched, only to hope that he didn’t catch the gesture in the dark as she asked lightly, “Why would you think that?”

“Because between the two of you today – and at least parts of yesterday – this all makes more sense if you’re protecting Lady Mary from some sort of… of what?... disgrace, or something that is perceived as such?”

“Stop it,” Anna snapped, pulling her hand out of his before he could feel the shaking in it get worse. “How dare you—you _gossip_ so about Lady Mary? I told you what’s happened, and you’re calling me and her liars, while—while degrading her in the process? How could you?”

She’d shocked him into standing still in the middle of the road, and, somewhat cruelly, she took advantage of that, as well as of his injured leg. She hurried ahead of him, walking as quickly as could be considered proper as she shifted the baby onto her shoulder – hoping that might keep her coming tears from falling onto him.

“Anna,” John called after her, beginning to walk again. “Anna. I wasn’t gossiping; I’m trying to understand.”

He sounded frustrated, with a thread of hurt running through his tone, and Anna winced, but didn’t slow down. She was nursing the baby in their bedroom, her back purposefully turned towards the doorway, by the time he arrived home.

Anna heard John shuffling around the cottage for a couple minutes before he came into their bedroom. She could feel when his gaze landed on her back, and her shoulders stiffened of their own accord. Just the earliest hours of this morning, she’d developed a plan for what she would tell John, how she would explain it, and what she wouldn’t explain at all. She could barely remember what she’d decided to say, and she could feel the likelihood of her being able to say it slipping away.

John’s lips were pressed into a thin line as he moved into her field of vision to retrieve his nightclothes, and he was silent as he readied for bed. Baffled and frustrated might be the best things he was right now, and if he was angry with her, Anna couldn’t say as she blamed him.

It was awful. Lady Mary’s situation was horrid, yes, but so was this, right now, with John. Sitting in the tense, silent atmosphere was awful. She and John didn’t argue often, but this very silence between them felt like the beginning of an argument.


	12. Chapter 12

Anna ducked her head so that she didn’t have to watch him, as a feeble attempt to avoid the impending conversation, and John moved out of her line of sight again. A couple minutes passed while she tracked his movements based on the familiar sounds of them and the glimpses she caught of him out of the corners of her eyes.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the bed dipped with his weight behind her as he lay down. His fingertips ghosted along her spine, and she bit back a startled gasp. If she hadn’t been holding the baby, she would’ve jerked to her feet… before she realized that his touch was feather-light and impossibly gentle.

_What?_

Clearly, he had reigned in his anger while he’d dressed for bed – her dear, gallant John.

Anna hated this. She desperately wanted to blurt the whole mess out to him and sob, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She had her loyalties to Lady Mary as well as those to John, and as long as Lady Mary hadn’t told Mr. Crawley, Anna wasn’t even going to consider telling John.

“I believe you,” he said quietly. “If you say Littlejohn didn’t harm you, I believe you. But you have to see where that begs the question—”

“I understand that,” Anna said miserably, buttoning her gown. She stood and put the baby in his bed, reasserting, “But I’ve made promises that I intend to keep until I’m given permission to do otherwise.” She faced John, adding, “You understand as well as I do that my job is equal parts hairdresser and confidant, seamstress and secret-keeper.  Don’t—please, don’t hold that job description against me now if you haven’t before. I _cannot_ talk to you about it, and I _need_ you to understand that for now.”

John reached for her, and she gave him her hand as she climbed into bed beside him. He blew out the dim candle that Anna had lit earlier and pulled her close, holding her almost tightly to him, as she tucked her head underneath his chin. “Is it terrible of me to admit that I don’t care?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“That was the wrong thing to say, anyway. I care that someone was clearly hurt, and I hate that, whatever it is, it’s clearly hurting you. I don’t _mind_ not knowing what’s happened as long as it didn’t happen _to you_. I…” his arms tightened a little more around her, and she felt him kiss her hair before he admitted, “I only wish that you could stop _shaking_.”

Anna released a breath disbelief – something that might’ve been a laugh under different circumstances. As it was, she pressed her forehead against the curve of his shoulder and wriggled an arm free of John’s grasp to press her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep her welling tears at bay.

“No,” John admonished gently, grabbing her wrist and kissing her knuckles. “None of that here, not with me. You’re safe here, cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

So, she did – she cried for Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley, she cried because of her own resurfacing memories, the unfairness of the world, and the weight of one more secret pressing against her breastbone. But at the end of her tears, her hands finally fell still. She was able to fall asleep, and with John’s arms around her, she was able to _rest_.

* * *

Anna wasn’t even surprised when, the next morning, Lady Mary’s bell was the first to ring. She was, however, surprised when Mr. Molesley sprang up from the breakfast table even quicker than she did.

“Where are you going?” Barrow asked Mr. Molesley with eyebrows raised with his own surprise.

“To Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary’s room. Last night, as I was dressing him for bed, he asked me to let him know as soon as Lady Mary was awake.”

“Why?” Anna asked, trying to keep her wariness from her tone even as protectiveness stirred instantly to life in her chest.

She should’ve trusted Mr. Crawley more than that, she knew, but after some of the things done yesterday, after the way he’d been very firm about figuring things out with Lady Mary today… Well, as much as she agreed that Mr. Crawley should very well learn the terrible truth today, she was still protective.

“I have no idea,” Mr. Molesley replied with a shrug. “I just told him I could do what he wanted me to, is all, and then I left him for the night.”

“I can wake him for you, if you like,” she suggested lightly. “I’m sure I can throw open a curtain just as well as you can, and it’s on my way to Lady Mary’s room. I know Mr. Crawley won’t mind.”

Mr. Molesley hesitated before sitting slowly back down in his chair as he answered, “If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind. It would be nice to finish my tea before it goes cold for once.”

Anna smiled brightly at him, assuring, “I won’t mind at all,” before she left the dining hall.

Her smile vanished as she left the servants’ floor behind and moved to the hall of the family’s bedrooms. She knocked lightly on the door of Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary’s room before slipping inside and throwing open a couple sets of curtains. “I know I’m not who you expected to see, but Lady Mary’s awake, sir, and I was told you wanted to know.”

For a moment, Mr. Crawley blinked uncomprehendingly at her in the light of the sunrise pouring through the window. He pulled the blankets up to his chin in a kind show of propriety that he wouldn’t have bothered with had Lady Mary been in the room, too, answering after a muffled groan, “I did, yes; thank you, Anna.” Still blinking sleep out of his eyes, he muttered, “What _time_ is it?”

“About a quarter after six, last I checked.”

“And Mary’s already awake?”

“That is generally why she rings, yes,” Anna replied, not able to complete tamp down the sarcasm that she would’ve done better to avoid. “Mrs. Patmore will probably be preparing a tray for her now.”

“Do you think you could run down and ask Mrs. Patmore to put breakfast for two on the tray, then?”

Anna faltered even though she realized it wasn’t exactly a request she could refuse. “Are you saying,” she asked carefully. “That you mean to… ambush Lady Mary and ask her to talk to you – when I’m sure you’ve guessed that she’s reluctant to do so – before she’s even properly awake or dressed yet?”

Mr. Crawley sighed at her. “I am not _ambushing_ anyone; I _need_ to talk to my wife, Anna, and I _need_ her to trust me with the truth. Whatever that may be. Do you understand? Now, please, go ask Mrs. Patmore to make a tray for two.”


	13. Chapter 13

Anna turned and went to the still half-open bedroom door, but she paused with her back still to Mr. Crawley to say, “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help her, and so am I, but pulling this into the open with you… there’s no way around the fact that it will be agony for her.”

“Then I will do as instructed,” Mr.  Crawley said, all traces of irritation from a moment ago now gone from his voice. “And be as gentle with her as possible. I’m not stupid, Anna. Part of my job as a lawyer is to put together puzzles, and I’ve seen her actions and yours, I’ve seen fear and bruising, despite the two of you trying to hide both of those things, and I think I already know what’s happened. So, let’s pretend for a moment that I’m right when I say that…” he hesitated before pressing on. “I cannot imagine what these past couple of days have been like for either of you, but I need you to know that I am very grateful for your being there for Mary. I pray I did no harm when I tried to talk to you about it, though I’m afraid I did, and I want you to know that you have my everlasting gratitude and respect for what you’ve done in this.”

If he had said anything of the sort to her yesterday, Anna might’ve burst into tears right there in the bedroom. Her talk with John and a solid night’s sleep had apparently done her more good than even she had thought, because she only smiled softly, though he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture, and said quietly, “I appreciate that, Mr. Crawley – but I don’t want you to worry about me; I’m well taken care of. You need to focus on helping Lady Mary.”

“Of course,” he replied, with a certainty in his tone that meant that he _did_ understand that, and Anna relaxed slightly to hear it.

“I’d better catch Mrs. Patmore before she sends Andy or Miss Baxter up with her ladyship’s tray,” Anna said, her way of excusing herself. “Then I’ll bring it to Lady Mary and tell her that you’ll be coming into her room once your dressed?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Anna nodded, hurrying back down to the servants’ hall to give Mr. Crawley’s message to Mrs. Patmore. She had almost made it to the top of the servants’ stairwell with the breakfast tray, on her way to going _back_ upstairs to Lady Mary’s room, when Mr. Bates started climbing the stairs behind her.

“Mr. Crawley is coming into Lady Mary’s old room to talk to her, I gather?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I must hurry, though.”

“Then hurry,” Mr. Bates replied with an indulgent smile. “Just know that I’m behind you if I’m needed.”

Anna caught the double meaning, and she appreciated it, but she only had time to flash him a smile before hurrying on. It wouldn’t do to let Mr. Crawley beat her into Lady Mary’s room. She was a little out of breath already from the morning when she slipped into Lady Mary’s bedroom at long last, setting the tray over Lady Mary’s lap.

“Are you all right?” Lady Mary asked with curiosity in her eyes. “You took a bit longer than normal to come in.”

“I’m all right, yes, but I’ve had a conversation with Mr. Crawley already this morning – nothing bad, but he wanted me to let you know that he would be joining you for breakfast in here as soon as he was dressed. That’s why there’s two plates on the tray.”

A little of the color left her ladyship’s cheeks as she murmured, “I’m to tell him already, then.”

“He will be infinitely kind about all of it, I’m sure, milady,” Anna said, her own tone kind. “I know it’s not my place to say, but you really ought to try and have a bit more faith in your husband. He loves you dearly, and he’s not going to… have any negative thoughts about it all _toward you_ , surely.” She took on a lighter tone, hoping a bit of levity might help Lady Mary see how silly her concerns were, “And if he does, and I’m wrong and you’re right, well then, you and I will just have a busy couple of days packing up your things to move you into the dower house.”

Lady Mary only glared at her, announcing imperiously, “You’re not funny.”

Anna hummed before moving on, inwardly deciding that Mr. Crawley really was just going to have to put her concerns to rest himself. “The real question right now is: do you care to be dressed when Mr. Crawley comes in, or no, because if you would, we’ve got to hurry.”

“No, thank you, then. You may go, and I’ll ring you up later when you’re needed.”

Anna thought for a second about coming up with a reason to remain in the room while Mr. Crawley came in, but she knew that would be a bit… stifling at best. It was time for her to trust Mr. Crawley to help Lady Mary – hopefully with the same gentleness that Mr. Bates had so unerringly shown Anna.

“Very good, milady. And… try to enjoy your breakfast. I know you didn’t eat enough yesterday.”

Lady Mary shot her a halfway sheepish smile as Anna slipped out the door – and almost ran into Mr. Crawley. “Sorry,” she apologized, before blinking up at him as she realized who he was. “You were quick getting here, weren’t you?” she couldn’t help but remark.

“I’m a man on a mission,” Mr. Crawley replied with a smile that he was trying to make seem teasing. He was failing at it, though. His eyes were nothing but trepidation and misery now.

“She’ll be all right, Mr. Crawley, and so will you,” Anna assured him. “Let her cry if she needs to, let her be angry if she needs to, but know that this conversation may very well be what starts her towards real healing, and isn’t that a good thing?”

Mr. Crawley nodded, releasing a nervous breath before he knocked on the bedroom door and slipped past Anna into the bedroom. Anna hesitated, wondering again if she should stay near her ladyship, as she had so often the past couple of days. At the end of the hallway, Mr. Bates appeared, and, as if he could read her thoughts, he waved her over. So, rather than remain with Lady Mary, she went to her husband, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow in the otherwise abandoned hall.

“Trust Mr. Crawley, Anna. They both have thick skin, and they love each other, and they’re going to fight this together. Whatever this is, they are going to be fine.”

“I do trust him, and I do know that they’ll be all right. I do. I just… hate it.”

“I would be worried about you if you didn’t,” Mr. Bates answered, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “But that doesn’t mean that you should agonize over it. You need room to breathe, and she needs room to grow, and we might all benefit from things going back to normal a little.”

“My routine here, you mean?”

“In part, yes.”

Anna nodded her agreement even as she glanced at Lady Mary’s closed bedroom door, trying to envision the conversation going on beyond it.

Mr. Bates tugged her gently towards the stairs, saying, “Come finish your tea downstairs, or help me with repairing one of his lordship’s shirts. There’s always something to do beyond fretting, and it’s not really good for you in the first place when _you know she’s being taken care of_.”

“I do, yes,” Anna said again, letting her husband lead her back downstairs as he turned the conversation very purposefully towards her sewing projects.


	14. Chapter 14

Anna had barely even gone from the bedroom when a knock sounded at the door and Matthew slipped in without preamble or permission. The single bite of toast that Mary had thus far eaten of her breakfast turned to dust in her mouth, and she swallowed it roughly. “You’re here early,” she remarked.

“You’re awake early,” Matthew shot back with a suave smile and an expression of ease that didn’t reach his eyes. “Anna told you I wanted to join you for breakfast?”

Mary nodded, trying to smile as she gestured to the second plate of food on her tray.

“May I sit?” Matthew asked as he reached the edge of her bed.

She nodded again, not quite sure how to find the words to speak around the stone that was sinking heavily into her stomach already. Matthew watched her with gentle eyes as he cut up his fried egg.

“You can tell me anything, you know,” he said quietly, and she nodded a third time, because she did know, she was just having trouble doing it.

Still, if she could tell the likes of Richard Carlyle about Pamuk, she could very well tell Matthew about Littlejohn, couldn’t she? He wouldn’t be horrid about it, would he? Surely Anna would prove right here, and her husband really _did_ love her _that_ much.

It was a strange, almost incomprehensible thought, but she clung to it anyway as she drew herself up straighter than ever, tilting her chin up perhaps a little too high as she began, “Very well.” She pointed to her black eye. “Clearly something’s happened; I’m sorry Anna didn’t have time to help me with my makeup before you came in this morning.”

Matthew shook his head, taking in the dark blemish with a frown. “I don’t mind. Though… I assume that’s not the half of it, is it?”

Mary shook her head, asking, “Do you mean to tell me you’ve figured it out, then?”

“Maybe.” Matthew swallowed. “But I’m here to hear your story, not to spew conjecture.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Mary said, stirring her tea listlessly. She made herself meet Matthew’s eyes, admitting “The short story is that Mr. Littlejohn attacked me.”

Matthew nodded slowly, seeming not at all surprised, but she watched something deflate behind his eyes. “Then I was right – and I am sorrier than I can say.” He considered her for a moment, trying to find something to say or do, but in the end, he asked, “What can I do for you, Mary?”

She faltered, not sure she _truly_ wanted to ask for what came to mind… but she made her request regardless. “Be honest with me, about any of it. If I have disappointed you, tell me, don’t try to hide it from me. If I am lesser to you, or unappealing in some way, I understand, and I won’t hold it—”

“Will you stop that?” Matthew requested softly. He set down his fork and knife, all the better to focus on their conversation as he pointed out, “We’ve been down something like this road before, you and I.” At her puzzled look, he reminded her gently, “When you told me about Pamuk, did I hold that against you?”

“No, not really, but you weren’t happy about it.”

“And I’m not _happy_ now! Someone has had the gall to hurt my wife, and, frankly, I should like to see him beaten for it – or dead… but that’s of no consequence, because I’m here for you, not to worry about him. So, no, Mary, you are not any ‘lesser’ to me, or ‘unappealing,’ you are… you are my Mary, the same as you have always been, just as beautiful and fiery and brilliant and sharp. Only a little… warier, now, and that’s all right. Because as that wariness fades, it gives room to healing, and that’s all I want for you, my darling.”

Mary stared at him, not quite sure if she should believe what she was hearing. But she had requested honesty, and this was what he had opted to tell her, so why shouldn’t she believe him? “Set this on the bedside table?” she requested, pushing away the barely-touched breakfast tray.

Matthew blinked, giving her a confused look at the change of topic, but he complied.

“Now come here,” she requested, reaching for him.

His expression softened, and he slipped off his shoes before crawling up the bed to sit beside her. She rearranged her position so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard and her temple rested against his shoulder, one of his arms around her shoulders, the other holding her clasped hands. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and she wasn’t as relaxed in his arms as she would’ve been a week ago, but it was nice just to sit with him, to reassure herself that she could do so.

“Does this mean,” she asked carefully, relieved to realize that she already had an inkling of what his response was going to be, “That you have no intention of casting me off?”

He stiffened with momentary shock, and air ghosted over the top of her head as he released a surprised breath. Matthew’s arm tightly protectively around her as he answered, “Of course not, Mary. I would never. You are _my Mary_ , remember? For now, and forever, you are stuck with me.”

Mary rotated her shoulders to make him loosen his hold so that it returned to what it had been, feeling comfortable enough now to dare to look at his face – to see in his eyes that he was making a mental note of her movements, and adapting his behavior accordingly. She hated it, but if, for now, she needed it nonetheless, she decided she could live with it.

“Good,” she replied firmly, a small smile coming to her lips.

“Is there anything else you would like me to know?”

She shook her head after only a moment’s thought. “Not right now.” Right now, she just wanted peace, and to lie here beside him, even if he remained above her covers and she beneath them. The full and detailed retelling of what Littlejohn had done could come later, if at all. “Do you think we could lay here for a while?”

“Of course. But in the meantime,” he moved as little as was necessary to retrieve their breakfast tray. “I believe I heard Anna give you orders to eat right before I came in, and I don’t think she’ll like to see a full tray when she returns, so you’d better obey her instructions.”

“You’re being painfully anticlimactic, you know,” Mary pointed out dryly, still watching him as she tore off a bite of toast and put it in her mouth.

Matthew shrugged. “Should I apologize? I don’t mean to get upset at you for something you had no control over, those who’ve gone before us have shown me the folly of focusing too much on the monster and not on you, and if I was to step too far out of line in a way that hurt you further, I’m rather afraid Anna will come after me with a knife.”

Mary raised her eyebrows at him, gaze sharpening only a little as she said, “You know that’s not fair.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t intend to find out whether or not it’s truthful. So, I am here, with you, where I will stay…” he inhaled slowly, admitting almost under his breath, “No matter how much I want to march down to the stables and pummel him.”

“He’s on the first train out;” Mary said flatly. “I doubt you’ll have the time before he’s gone from our lives forever.”

“Good,” Matthew said, reaching slowly for her hand. She held onto him tightly, and he raised her hand to his lips, kissing it as he added, “Then we really can focus on moving forward without any distractions.”

Leaning on his shoulder again, Mary admitted, “That sounds very nice.”


	15. Chapter 15

It was only just after seven o’clock when the bell for Lady Mary’s room was wrung, making Anna look up from the mending that she had ended up doing in the servants’ hall. From his seat beside her, finishing the collars he had started working on yesterday, Mr. Bates looked at her.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked quietly as she set down her mending and stood.

“I’m not sure what good it’ll do.”

Checking the time, Mr. Bates stood regardless. “I would venture that Mr. Crawley is still very nearby, and I think I would like to talk to him.”

“Mr. Bates—” Anna began to admonish.

“Has it occurred to you that someone may need to make sure he doesn’t storm out to the stables in a rage?” Mr. Bates asked in a low, quiet voice. “That’s what I would do if I was him.”

“But you’re not,” Anna pointed out. “Be that as it may,” she headed for the stairs. “I’m not telling you that you _can’t_ come if you wish to.”

Mr. Bates came behind her, then, odd though they both knew it was, and she habitually adjusted her stride to stay at his side as they walked. He stood just to the side of the doorway, barely in the Crawleys’ lines of sight as Anna entered her ladyship’s girlhood room.

“Well, then,” Anna asked Lady Mary a little flippantly. “When do we start packing?”

“Packing?” Mr. Crawley repeated, both he and his wife looking thoroughly confused.

“Lady Mary’s things,” Anna explained, wide eyes taking in the way that Lady Mary and her husband were still carefully holding each other on the bed. Her gaze settled knowingly on her ladyship as she added a little too innocently, “For the dower house, remember?”

Lady Mary drew in a breath, turning her face into Mr. Crawley’s shoulder as she ordered in an attempt to be cross, “Oh, shut up.”

“I take it I was right, then?” Anna asked, moving to open Lady Mary’s wardrobe and select her clothes for the morning.

“Of course you were,” Lady Mary replied. “Is that what you needed to hear?”

“I don’t deserve that,” Anna said, a little quieter and graver now. “ _You_ were the one who needed to hear the things that were said… you just had to hear them from the right person. And now that you have,” she glanced at Mr. Crawley, asking the rather scandalous question, “Is he staying while you dress?”

Mr. Crawley disentangled himself from Lady Mary, taking that as his cue to leave. “I don’t think I ever realized there was so much sass in this one,” he remarked, rounding the bed to the side her ladyship lay on.

“You’re just usually not party to it. It’s always been there,” Lady Mary answered lightly, tilting her cheek towards Mr. Crawley for a kiss. But Anna’s teasing had finally had the desired effect, and she was smiling as he left the room.

* * *

If Bates hadn’t been surprised to find Matthew waiting for him the night before, then Matthew wasn’t surprised to find Bates doing the same right outside Mary’s bedroom door.

Closing the door to leave the ladies to Mary’s morning routine, Matthew stared at the door across the hall as he admitted quietly, “I have never before, in my whole life, wanted so badly to be wrong about something.” Bates said nothing, giving Matthew the space to add painfully, “But I wasn’t. We weren’t wrong about what we discussed last night.” Bates nodded, ever a servant of few words, until Matthew asked, “What do I do now?”

“What has Lady Mary asked you to do?”

Matthew thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing, really.” After a second of consideration, he asked, “Is there anything you recommend?”

That gave Bates pause, and his brow knit together as he tried to find the words to voice whatever he was thinking. “To be blunt, let her take… initiative in… physical things – big or small. For both of your sakes. You’ll be fine if, on a good day, she steals a kiss, but if you do the same before you’ve noticed she’s having a bad day, and she… starts, you’ll feel like a piece of dirt, and it becomes a bigger issue than it needs to be.”

Mary wasn’t a terribly affectionate person under normal circumstances and being led solely by her whims in their marriage was an idea that troubled Matthew in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But he saw it for the practical advice that it was, and he nodded, regardless of whether or not he liked what he was hearing.

Bates must have noticed the discouragement in his eyes, though, because he continued, “But on a lighter, slightly more all-encompassing note, I… found it was an interesting exercise to treat Anna as someone I was courting, if you will. That helped me check my… physical impulses, but… it also gave me a chance to get to know her again. To get a sense for how Green had changed her, but also just to relearn her, to be reminded how lucky I am to have her. We talked a great deal after I learned what had happened to her.” He cleared his throat, looking away in embarrassment as he realized how much he had said. Bates wasn’t exactly looking at Matthew anymore as he continued, “I say that to hopefully tell you that something good _can_ come of this, in some way, if you’re willing to work for it.”

“Thank you,” Matthew replied, and he meant it as he saw how much saying those things and returning to those memories had cost Bates. _It would be kinder to release him now,_ he thought, adding as a change of topic, “But I won’t keep you from your duties if you need to be elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” Bates repeated. “I’m always here, or at my cottage in the village. Close,” he said a little pointedly. “For whenever I might be needed.” Matthew caught his meaning, but he didn’t comment on it as Bates excused himself by admitting, “I did have a few things I planned to do before his lordship rings, though.”

Matthew nodded, not sure exactly what to say, and Bates turned and left him alone without further to-do. Matthew wandered back to his dressing room and rang for Molesley so that he could dress properly for the day.

He turned his thoughts, for the first time in years, towards properly wooing – “courting” – Lady Mary Crawley. By the time Molesley came in, Matthew thought he had at least decided upon a fairly inconspicuous start to wooing Mary again.


	16. Chapter 16

“Molesley,” Matthew asked, handing his valet the vest he’d hastily thrown on – foregoing a suit jacket entirely. “Do… upper-class people still employ the language of flowers?”

Molesley gave him a quickly-hidden look of bewilderment – which could’ve been due to a couple different parts of that question, Matthew knew – before he inquired, light and a little pointed, “You mean upper-class people like yourself, sir?”

Matthew gave him a wry smile as he began to unbutton his shirt. “Exactly. It seemed to be falling out of use by the beginning of the decade.”

Molesley nodded, considering. “It has, yes, but recently enough that if you wished to convey something to the lady I _hope_ we are discussing, I’m sure she would’ve learned, as you called it, the language of flowers as part of her education.”

“If I were to give you a sort of summary of what I wanted to say, could you – or I suppose this is more of your father’s domain, isn’t it? – put together a bouquet? I would be willing to pay whatever’s necessary, of course.”

“Certainly, sir,” Molesly agreed. “I’ll run down in a bit, once you’ve made your list, if that’s all right, and ask my dad if he thinks he could manage it.”

Matthew smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

* * *

Anna sat in the servants’ dining hall, stirring her tea as she waited for it to cool a bit more. She was staring at the tea she’d made for Mr. Bates and mulling over how to remove a stain from one of Lady Mary’s gowns when her husband approached from behind her. He put a hand on her shoulder to forewarn her of his presence before he sat down beside her, despite the fact that she’d known he was there thanks to his distinct gait provided by his cane.

“For you,” she said, nodding to his tea.

“Thank you.” He looked around them – there were only Miss Baxter and Mr. Molesley further down the table, sharing their own teatime – before lowering his voice to ask quietly as he moved closer to Anna, “Did Lady Mary seem all right to you after talking to Mr. Crawley?”

“Better than she’s been in the past few days, really,” Anna informed him. “She’s so clearly relieved with how Mr. Crawley’s reacted, and that Littlejohn is gone from among us already.”

“Good. That’s very good.”

Anna watched Mr. Bates carefully as she asked, “And how is Mr. Crawley?”

Mr. Bates thought for a moment, taking a drink of his tea as he mulled the question over. “He’ll be fine, sooner rather than later, I suspect. He’s certainly handling it better than I did in his place.”

Anna felt a stab of guilt as she murmured, “I’m sure less deception helps that.”

“Don’t go back there, please,” Mr. Bates requested, rasping his fingertips over her knuckles where her hand wrapped around her teacup. “Not when there’s no need. I only meant he has his priorities better in order than I did. I was so busy being angry… He… isn’t – or if he is, he’s decided the anger doesn’t matter.”

Anna moved her free hand to clasp Mr. Bates’ hand in her own, saying, “And, if I am correct in the part _you’ve_ played in this, _that_ mindset might well have to do with having someone to… confide in and get advice from. And he’s listening to the advice he’s getting, which is a great deal better than I did.”

Mr. Bates shook his head, squeezing her hand underneath the table. “Let’s not talk about our… past experience. Can we try to leave it back there again?”

Anna nodded, more than happy with the idea. “Gladly. Am I to take it,” she looked at him seriously now, needing to know for certain: “That you and I are… past the rough waters of the last few days?”

“Of course, we are, my dearest Anna,” he whispered. “There is nothing to forgive, and even if there was, it would already be long forgiven.”

Mindful of the fact that they were at their place of work, he only brought her hand to his lips, kissing her lightly there, but that, and the adoring look in his eyes, was more than enough to soothe away whatever of Anna’s worries had remained.

“I am sorry I left you behind last night,” she said nonetheless, feeling ashamed at the memory. “That was needless cruelty.”

“All is forgiven,” he reminded her patiently, picking up his teacup and watching her over the rim of it as he sipped.

And that was that, and Anna felt a peace in her relationship with John that she hadn’t had since Lady Mary had come home from the woods.

* * *

“You look a great deal more like yourself than you have the past couple of days,” Lady Mary pointed out, studying Anna and pretending she wasn’t while her lady’s maid moved to lay her dress on the end of Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary’s bed.

Anna shook her head dismissively, though she didn’t try to deny that she had been properly smiling this evening for the first time since Lady Mary’s attack. “Mr. Bates and I had…” she paused, debating whether or not to tell her ladyship the whole truth. “Well, we’ve had a rough couple of days—” Lady Mary’s gaze, if no other part of her, turned instantly apologetic, but Anna was quick to add, “—But we settled it this afternoon, and with the… productive morning that you had, it’s nice to feel like things might be steering towards…”

“Normalcy?” Lady Mary suggested.

“Or at least a new normal,” Anna replied, not quite willing to lead her ladyship to believe that her trauma was suddenly going to be over when she knew it wasn’t.

Healing like this took time, sometimes a lifetime of it, but at least now she knew her friend was on the start towards it – and that meant Anna could breathe a little more freely as well.

“I wouldn’t half mind this being a new sort of normal,” Lady Mary said, sitting down at her vanity to allow Anna to begin taking down her hair for the night. She nodded towards the bouquet that was taking up an almost unfairly large corner of the vanity. “Did you notice?”

“They’re rather hard to miss,” Anna answered with a grin.

“Matthew delivered them personally right before the gong was rung. He’s been absolutely doting already.”

“How lovely of him. I’m glad for you both, truly.” Lady Mary looked at the rather ungainly mass of vegetation with an affection in her gaze that Anna couldn’t quite comprehend – and then she noticed the flower standing tall at the center of the bouquet, and it started to make a bit more sense. “Don’t I remember you telling me years ago that irises meant there was a message in the flowers for the person who received them?”

“Precisely,” Lady Mary answered happily. When the use of flowers to send such messages had been more common, she had occasionally explained to Anna whatever message her current suitor had sent her through the blossoms, and she did so now, even though the bouquet was far from the usual refined fair she received. “The iris only means there’s a message. The apple blossom promises better things to come, the chamomile – the wild flower-looking one – bless Matthew, represents patience. The morning glory represents affection, and the lavender represents devotion and virtue. There’s even meanings behind the plants that aren’t flowers.”

Privately, Anna thought that the rest of the plants looked like they had been plucked from Daisy’s herb garden, but if Lady Mary didn’t care, she certainly couldn’t bring herself to. Not when it had clearly pleased Lady Mary so much. “What meanings are those?” she asked as she brushed her ladyship’s hair, curious what Mr. Crawley had wanted to say to his wife. “I recognize the fern, dill, and thyme, at least, but not what they, as you said, represent.”

“Fern represents sincerity, thyme represents courage and strength. The dill represents a power against evil – which I feel we’ve ultimately managed to have these past few days. The last plant is tarragon; it represents lasting interest.”

“Meaning Mr. Crawley’s lasting ‘interest’ in you, I presume,” Anna said lightly, still smiling softly.

“So I was led to believe.” Lady Mary studied her fingernails for a moment, picking underneath them again before she looked back up at Anna. “It has been a good day,” she said firmly. “An abominably hard morning, true… but, lucky for me, I think this has already been my first good day.”

“The first of many more good days, I’m sure,” Anna remarked, setting aside the hairbrush for the evening.

Lady Mary leaned in to take a deep breath of the fragrance of the flowers before she stood from her vanity, admitting as if it were a revelation she was just now coming to – and maybe it was – “I think I, too, believe there will be many more good days.”

“I’m terribly glad to hear it, milady.”

Anna was smiling gently as she picked up her lady’s dress from the end of the bed, and there was a knock at the door, which she opened to admit Mr. Crawley. It all felt so blessedly normal. There was a long road ahead of Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley now, Anna knew that perhaps better than her ladyship had even realized, but her mistress was right, too. Today had been a good day – the first of many more - and for now that was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I purposefully left this a little open-ended, because I felt like if I didn't, it would've needed to become a MUCH bigger fic in order to reach a more satisfactory end to Mary's journey from here, and I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to drag it out, and thereby take away from it. But, also, I feel very strongly that this is something that, as Anna mentions, it can take a lifetime to get over, or you never quite get over it, you just learn how to live with it. So I chose to leave them here, with Mary realizing that she can still live after what's happened, sleep beside her husband, and regain some sense of normalcy. She's still loved and valued and she accepts that - and for today it's enough for her.  
> Hopefully, I managed to convey some of that in the story, and, equally, I hope it makes sense to the reader. Feel free to tell me your thoughts!


End file.
